Larry leaned forward further into the light with a confused look. In the bright light from the window his dark tie blinded into shirt. "Don't sulk and say 'The Devil Take It' when no-one can deny you earned every penny." The very grin on Larry's triangular jaw and his bushy eyebrows reminded me of the Devil.
Indeed Larry had reminded me of the Devil since we first me when he stood before my desk on my chamber, a musty room adorned with a simple desk where such business as the Enclave required was conducted. I presented my problem.
Then I told Larry. "I need cash money to fix the tractor to harvest grapes - - My superiors, the sponsoring institution, withdrew support. Can we get some help if all we can pay back is produce - - mostly wine?
"Devilish Fix," Larry shook his head, "the world works on money - - not much call for bathtub gin - - these days, but the cops won't look here for a different product line." That devilish grin formed on the V shaped shin as Larry suggested that "it takes a bit of a devil to be a good leader - even a leader of saints."
In the present Larry explained that living with a deal meant living with its good and bad. "I've never heard of anyone complaining of the good part - - though," Larry commented with that suggestion of a grin under his brushy moustache.
In our first encounter, Larry had taken my advice that I would need the assent of the community to proceed further with little more than a raising of those bushy eyebrows forming eyes agape above a bemused smile.
"Despite," I informed Larry, "our robes and Rule of Labor and Spartan accommodations, we are at heart a democratic lot."
I had ordered the bell rung in the tower to summon the community to discuss the proposal. When to my surprise nothing more than a shrugging assent came from the brown robed hooded figures around the Table in the Great Hall, I protested, "Do you realize that when wheat is pulled from the chaff, what the chaff will be?"
An Elder pulled the hood and stared up and down the table and spoke for all. "In your role as leader, you must make certain - - compromises - - or adjustments from the ideal, no member, alone or with others, can take."
I stood at the head of the table silently with head bowed with hood covering my face as the community filed out.
"Now," Larry presently proudly presenting the envelope explained, "there were certain eh - - adjustments, deductions for - - the expenses I had to cover . . ." Larry catalogued the cash advances he had made against the yield.
And there had been adjustments in the Enclave when the ribauld crew Larry sent to work alongside members of the community took up residence in a deserted wing of our bastion.
True we dressed the crew in the somber hooded robes and scattered them through the Enclave so the increase in number would not be noted beyond our gate, as if any outside really cared what we did.
The crew ate the common meals around the Great Table; some even attended our morning prayer, but after dark, the crew retreated to their own wing to party till dawn.
"Do you suppose," I summoned Larry for a complaint, "our vine press can produce so quickly to meet demand."
"No Big Deal! I'll put it down as a credit on your account." Larry exclaimed. "You save the enclave - - I have a contented crew - - Everybody ought to be happy."
"Perhaps too much happiness may be excessive." I grumbled.
"So you have to put up with a few annoyances in a good cause," Larry chuckled, "I tell the kids the same thing, some of the kids I tell are - - complaining those robes are to scratchy - - others want to take them home - - who can tell?"
Yet while the endless days of summer seemed to linger indefinitely, harvest came, the wheat and chaff separated and Larry's crew departed. A few threw the robes off the truck as they sped through our gate. Looking at the dust kicked up as the truck sped off, I wondered in having survived a pact with the devil. With the money to keep the Enclave independent, I could rid myself of Larry in the spring.
Over the barren winter, I may of thought over a thousand times the simple words I'd say dismissing Larry genteelly yet firmly. Leaders must have grace and tact in executing their devilish work, I assured myself.
Without fail in early March, Larry with an envelope in his hand, appeared at the enclave to discuss the year's planting.
When I solemnly met him in my chambers whose cheerless Spartan walls contrasted with its spectacular view of the grounds, I remained standing.
"Mr. Larry, I do appreciate your help." I began without a trace of emotion. "Indeed, but we have no need. Whatever balance accrued," I told Larry in a voice striving to maintain officiousness, "keep for yourself."
Larry suppressed a he-hawing laugh and went behind my desk and settled in. "What are you talking about? I own you down to the least screw in the wine press."
"You did lend us money, but we have paid you back out of the harvest," I protested.
"So you did," Larry acknowledged, "I brought the Enclave from your superiors with my share."
JD COLLINS adds a new wrinkle to the series begun in the
Enclave
published by INDITER DOT COM
and
carried into
Bounds
and then
Pictures on the Wall
published by Fullosia Press.